Missing Slippers

By: Sreya Palnati

I wake up to the sound of an awfully loud airplane. As I roll out of bed, I take a quick glance at the clock and realize that I am thirty minutes behind my schedule! I loudly groan as I make my way through the maze of bed sheets, comforters, and pillows. As soon as my feet touch the bare ground (at the precise location where I had placed my baby pink laced slippers the night before), a wave of coldness washes through me as if I were getting frostbite starting with my feet. “Slippers, where are my SLIPPERS?” I yell. I make sure to yell the “slippers” part louder so that my sister across the hall can hear. Little Jessica is seven and we pretty much hate each other. In fact, I can’t remember a time when we weren’t fighting. This is one of the pranks she likes to pull on me; she takes my slippers in the morning because she knows that I hate it when my feet get cold! Little kids! So immature! Jessica comes skipping down the hall like little red riding hood, skipping through the woods just in time to see her grandmother eaten by the wolf. This was the third time this week that she played this prank on me and I can’t believe that I forgot to check for my slippers again.

“Yes, my dear sister? What do you need?” she says in such a sweet, mocking tone, which kind of surprises me because I didn’t know someone so evil could talk that way.

“STOP TAKING MY SLIPPERS!!!” I scream at her.

“What slippers? You can’t blame me for everything Sophia.” she says with a mischievous smile and skips back out of the room. Again, so immature! I would’ve run after her, but at this point I really didn’t have the time. I walk into my bathroom and stop in my tracks. Tiny red handprints are scattered all over my bathroom floor and walls. As I trace the footprints to find the source, I open the curtains and gasp. I find my two year old baby brother sitting with his legs crossed and hands spread out wide. His hands are covered in red, just like the rest of his body. For a second, I thought it was blood and got really scared.

Then, he giggles and says, “Paint!” He recently learned that word and it seems like he’s using it everywhere he goes.

“Mom!” I shout.

A few seconds later, my mom appears saying, “What’s the problem?” She too, gasps when she sees the mess. Then, I tell her the story of how I found Tommy like this in the tub covered in red paint. She shakes her head and tells me to just take a bath in Jessica’s bathroom.

“What??? But her bathroom is super small and it’s way too bright and–”

“Honey, please it’s just one morning.” She seems tired and has black circles under her eyes.

“Fine!” I say and stomp my way over Jessica’s bathroom.

“What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t take your slippers. Just leave me alone!” she said.

“I’m not here about the slippers! Tommy made a mess in my bathroom and mom told me to use yours instead.”

“Ugh!” She says and scoots out of the way so I can open her bathroom door.

By the time I finish taking a bath in the cramped tub, I was late. I even missed the first few minutes of school. The whole day went by slowly with rigorous note-taking, tests, pop quizzes, and worksheets. During my fourth block, my teacher handed out the pop-quizzes we had taken last class. I guess my appalled face was apparent to my teacher because he said, “better luck next time Mrs. Markwelle!” I felt heat rush to my face as everyone in the class looked my way.

“I’m like the only one who got a bad grade on this quiz! I mean, I could tell it from everyone’s faces,” I told my friend.

“Don’t worry because I’m pretty sure that lots of people got worse grades than you,” she said.

“I’m not so sure,” I replied.

I get off the bus and walk down the path to my house. Then, I heard a rustling behind me and swiftly started walking backwards so that I could spot the source. I probably shouldn’t have done that because I didn’t see a rock and stumbled and fell on the ground. I scraped my knees where blood started gushing out. I walk home limping and knock on my doorbell. Jessica opens the door and I sigh in frustration. She looks at my bleeding knees and gasps.

“What happened?” She asks.

Then, the tears came out. I can’t help it. I’m devastated. This is the worst day ever! I actually answer her and tell her about my horrible day.

“Sophia,” She began, “It’s just a bad day. The only difference is that now, you have a chance to appreciate the good days even more! Oh yeah, I forgot something…” She quickly got up and jogged inside, leaving me sitting on the porch. A few seconds later, she came back with my much missed slippers in one hand.

“My slippers,” I exclaimed, “Gosh, I missed these so much, that I am actually happy to be holding slippers!” she chuckled and looked at her feet.

“Turn it over,” she said softly. I slowly turned it over and saw my name elegantly embroidered with a small note underneath it saying “to the best slipper in the world”.

“Wait…what? How did you do this?” I asked.

“Well, there was this girl in my school who offered to do it for me, which is why I took your slipper this morning.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Yeah, I did this because I wanted to make up for all the trouble I have caused you and I’m really sorry and—“

I stopped her in the middle of her sentence and gave her a huge hug. Her smile was ten miles wide. “I love you,” I said. This time, I really meant it.